Faced with a savage and resilient enemy on the ground, and deadly monstrosities in the terrible red sky, the four adventurers take up defensive positions. Remembering the horrifying shriek that the flying heads had used to render his allies helpless, Mishok calls upon Divoc to cast the spell of silence. In doing so, the quartet are immediately enveloped in an unnatural quiet, which is entirely incongruous with the abysmal visions that assail their eyes.

Sartan fires an arrow at the stocky, gape-mouthed mound of gristle, flesh, and teeth that rushes, snarling, directly for him. Perhaps a bit disoriented by the weird silence, he shoots wide and his arrow disappears into the river of lava. Cycek fires an arcing arrow shot at a flying creature, yielding an equally unsuccessful result. His arrow clatters uselessly to the ground.

A movement at the body of their fallen ally, Stringbean, draws their gaze to an unsettling sight. The dead goblin’s eyes spring open, and the pointed ears stretch and deform into a grotesque pair of wings. They begin to flap, weakly at first, but then with a fury. The neck stretches upward and the head begins to rise. Tendons stretch and then snap. Green flesh rips, and gouts of blood splash over the filthy stone. In the magical silence, they cannot hear the screams from Stringbean’s agonized face. The goblin’s head tears away from the body, takes to the air, and flutters wildly, as disoriented as a butterfly in a cyclone.

There is little time to digest this latest grotesquery, as the other flying heads are not disoriented at all. Three of them dive down to inflict injury on whomever they can. Cycek receives another devastating bite, and he again suffers the effects of abysmal venom. The attacker immediately takes to the sky again, but not before Cycek whips out his shortsword and swipes at the departing foe. He cuts into it, but it still flaps away, where it wheels around, preparing another attack. Sartan is similarly attacked. The flying horror darts past his defenses and sinks its poisoned teeth into his flesh. Demonsbane is quick to Sartan’s hand, and the warrior swings the enchanted blade. The cloven head lands on the stone sickeningly as two disgusting lumps of quivering flesh. A third head dives at the ever evasive Davros, but is unable to cause any injury. Nevertheless, Davros lashes out as the creature flaps back upward. He slashes it across the face, failing to kill it. But he swings again and brings death to the nasty fiend. 

Mishok moves into position near Sartan, readying himself as the demon with the gaping, fanged maw barrels towards him. It closes the distance and takes a tremendous bite at Sartan. It’s jaws snap closed on thin air as Sartan deftly dodges aside. Demonsbane is almost whimpering with anticipation, and Sartan gives the sword satisfaction, as he swings and cleaves into the muscular creature, spilling demonic gore onto the rocks at their feet. Cycek moves counter clockwise around the stone platform, placing himself below Stringbean’s flapping head. He shoots straight up at it, but misses. This attack gives the heretofore disoriented monster a new sense of purpose. It dives directly down and sinks its goblin fangs into Cycek’s neck. Cycek falls to the ground, unconscious, Fuzzidong jumps lithely down from his shoulder, and Stringbean’s head takes to the sky again.

The other remaining flying creature makes another attempt at Davros and misses once more. He shoots it down as it flies away, and it tumbles into the lava with a splash, and a spattering hiss like hot grease from a burst sausage. He then dashes toward the fallen Cycek, already readying his healer’s kit as he runs over the blood-soaked, bone-strewn battlefield of stone.

Mishok takes a mighty swing at the maw demon with his heavy dwarven war hammer. He brings the weapon down with all his strength, crushing and deforming the horrific jaw, but not killing the all-too-sturdy demon. He steps back out of range, and the damaged monster lunges at him clumsily, missing the dwarf with the still deadly teeth. It whirls back around and takes an equally ineffective bite at Sartan.

Cycek is in bad shape when Davros arrives, but the rogue is able to stop the bleeding, and keep his elvish friend from meeting the same fate as Stringbean. The flying head of Stringbean shortly meets its fate as well, as Davros brings it down with a well-placed arrow shot.

Sartan and Mishok are still engaged with their foe, fighting in silence against an enemy that must certainly be roaring with rage and pain. Mishok sinks a crossbow bolt deep into its revolting flesh, setting the stage for Sartan to make the killing blow. He stabs Demonsbane into the creature and shoves it hard with his shield. It gushes blood and is thrown backward. It staggers at the cliff edge and tumbles into the lava, shriveling and smoking as it sinks slowly into the viscous molten rock.

A few moments pass, and no new attackers emerge. Mishok drops the zone of silence, and the sound of bubbling lava, and distant cackling laughter return to their ears. Mishok and Sartan rush over to assist with reviving the stricken Cycek. Mishok extends his hand a brings Cycek back from the brink of death with Divoc’s healing touch.

Having been embattled since the moment they entered this world, the team has had little opportunity to observe their environs until now, and what they see is far from inviting. A flat-topped pinnacle of stone looms over a tortured scene of darkness, fire, and death. Writhing channels of sluggishly flowing lava snake between jagged islands of dark grey rock. The ground beneath their feet is strewn with debris: bones, teeth, broken rock, scraps of metal, and shards of glass… the filth of ages of abuse by wretched fiends who care naught for beauty, relishing instead all the ugliness, fear, and pain they can muster. A ladder-like catwalks extends from the island upon which they stand to a smaller adjacent one, and additional ladders connect other ones in the vicinity. Upon one island, two demonic figures caper and gesture. Over the bubble and hiss of the lava, they can hear cackling laughter, punctuated by an occasional human voice, screaming in despair.

Free for the moment from attackers, they discuss at length their next move. Seeing no foes upon the smaller islands, they decide to cross the catwalk and explore. Davros, the most nimble of the crew, readies himself for the prospect of crossing a rickety structure that awkwardly spans a channel of lethally-hot lava, when Sartan impatiently barges ahead. In doing so, he loses his footing and falls forward, barely catching himself before tumbling into the fiery sludge. He rights himself and continues. Upon setting foot on the far shore, two small green creatures spring into view and attack him their tiny but vicious claws. One of them darts past his startled defenses and digs its claws deeply into his flesh, leaving a damaging residue of demonic venom. Davros hastens across to help and the two creatures wink out of sight. Demonsbane speaks in Sartan’s ear, “He went that way! Over there! Get him!” Sartan heads toward the narrow end of the island and swings wildly in the general area that the demon-sensitive sword indicates. His sweeping sword stroke connects with the invisible fiend, cleaving it in half. The two green, seeping pieces appear, twitching on the stone. At the other end of the island, the other creature appears and attacks Davros – unsuccessfully. Before it can disappear again, the rogue runs it through with his rapier. 

The island clear of danger, Mishok and Cycek cautiously cross the precarious bridge. Cycek decides to lead the way across to the next island. He too is set upon by evil creatures that remain invisible until the moment of attack. He manages to kill one, pinning it to the ground with a skewering thrust of his short sword. But the other envenomates him with a clawed attack, and the elf is again brought to the ground, where he lays unconscious, his life force slipping away. 

Demonsbane leads Sartan to the vicinity of the other hidden opponent, but this time he swings through thin air. This leaves the tiny fiend free to rush forward and attack Davros as he comes across the bridge. Losing its cloaking ability during the attack, the creature is targeted by Darvos and it is soon dispatched.

Mishok joins the team, and they ready themselves for yet another crossing, this time to a narrow shelf on a much larger island. Davros leads the way, and is nearly across when the uneven bridge shifts and he falls. He scrambles for purchase, but fails to catch himself. He falls into the chasm, but luckily lands on the steep slope skirting the edge of the island. He slides precariously close to the gurgling river of certain death. Sartan makes his way across the bridge with as much haste as he can, aware of the point where his weight would rock the structure and risk throwing him of in the same manner as Sartan. He carefully negotiates this point in the journey and makes it to the far shore. He quickly pulls out the handy Gnomish Gooey Grabber and whips it out toward his endangered partner. Davros holds tight and the mighty Sartan hauls him up to the relative safety of the godforsaken island in this hellish realm.

The strip of flat stone on which Sartan and Davros find themselves is just as filthy and rubbish strewn as the others islands. They explore the path as far as they can in one direction and find that the shelf comes to an end with a frightful view of a veritable ocean of lava. A few islands outlying islands of this archipelago thrust jaggedly out of the heaving mass of liquid fire, and a distant mainland of jagged peaks shows itself through the haze of incessant burning.

While one pair explores, Mishok and Cycek, remaining on the previous island become aware of another maw demon dangling from a wire, scuttling hand-over-hand toward them. Cycek fires an arrow at one of its clawed hands, skewering its forearm, while Davros unsuccessfully calls the fire of Divoc upon it. It continues inexorably toward them despite the arrow wound, but Cycek fires again, this time puncturing its other hand and knocking it from the wire. With an bellow, it plummets into the lava where it is consumed in flesh-melting fire.

Now, free from immediate threats, the party again debates the next course of action, and the scene closes with no clear path forward.

Three fiendish flying horrors set upon the band of adventurers. These are monstrous human heads with mutated, exaggerated ears turned into revolting flapping wings. The first one dives at Sartan, missing with its snapping jaws, and then flying out of range. It then swoops at Cycek, connecting with a vicious bite. The terrible teeth of the creature sink into the flesh of Cycek’s head. Blood runs down his face, but it is a minor wound. However, the bite also carries the venom of the abyss, and Cycek suffers the effects of a dreadful poison. The two other creatures join the fray, diving in to attack other members of the group. Stringbean wisely runs and crouches in the shadow of a large rock, hiding from the onslaught, and Sartan and Davros soon follow suit. The flying heads move fast and are elusive, but between arrow shot and sword stroke, one of the three is brought down. One of the remaining monsters assails the team with a blood-curdling shriek, inducing a paralyzing fear. Most of the party is unable to act as the airborne horrors wheel around for another attack. They are unable to connect, then, as if called back home, they fly back into the portal and disappear.

The heroes recover from their shock and fear and swiftly decide “Now is our chance!” They hold hands and dive into the portal before it had a chance to disappear.

For a few quiet seconds, they find themselves floating in an endless field of misty grey. There is no indication of up or down. There are pools and eddies of grey light and subtle shade, and also a palpable, amorphous region of writhing shadow. A black arm seems to reach out, but a mass of light interposes itself, spreading like a protective shield of wings. The voice of Adara speaks, “go now, and act swiftly, I may not be able to hold this creature for long, nor hold the portal in stasis.” Complete your task. Find the girl and do so quickly.

At that moment the mist turns to orange and they find themselves falling into a pit of angry light. They seem to move every more quickly and are shortly dumped unceremoniously in a heap onto a slab of stone.

They are disoriented, but a quick look reveals that they have come to rest upon a tiered, circular platform of stone, in the center of a jagged, irregular island of black rock. Around the island snake glowing channels of sluggishly flowing lava. The air smells of harsh smoke. It stings their eyes, and makes them want to cough. The red sky above them is criss-crossed with black wires. They barely have time to take in the view beyond their immediate proximity, because they are immediately set upon by a small crowd of demonic creatures. These are horrid little bloated, squat fiends with scabrous flesh, wretched faces, and clawed hands. At least eight of them converge on the newly-arrived group, while the bat-winged heads circle above. Stringbean is the last through the portal, yet the first to react. He springs to his feet, and lunges for the nearest foe, sinking his dagger into its rubbery flesh, but failing to kill the wretched beast. One of the flying heads then sets upon the hapless goblin and delivers a killing wound. He is knocked to the ground and the hideous flapping monstrosity follows him to the ground where it continues to savage him at will.

Demonsbane is fairly quivering with excitement, and the weapon gleefully expresses its desire to kill as many of these fiends as possible. Sartan is happy to oblige, and he swings the blade, cutting down a couple foes.

Cycek instructs Fuzzeedong to attack the Achilles tendon of the nearest demon, and he does so, effectively hobbling the creature, but by no means critically injuring it. He then tries to fling the weasel into the face of another, to no effect. At bat-winged head dives toward him and inflicts another nasty poisoned bite.

Mishok, seeing the dire situation Cycek is in, moves into position where he can channel the divine force of Divoc, and deliver healing to the stricken elf. In the process, a trio of shambling assailants surround him and rake him with their jagged claws. He speaks some words of prayer and conjures a spiritual pitchfork. The weapon emanates radiant light, and flies through the air with deadly accuracy. It spears the first enemy with such force that the foul body of creature is blown apart with a sickening splat. The weapon then drives its pulsating tines into the next foe, and brings this one to the ground in a pile of torn, semi-molten flesh.

Davros darts through the fray, unleashing devastating sneak attacks on any opponent he can. He moves toward Sartan who has found himself locked in combat with two larger creatures who have approached from a hooked spit of land at one end of the island. They have encountered these types of creatures before: once at Hack’s pit battle, and once in the fray that had cost Coriander her life. One of these disgusting fiends unleashes a stench that sickens Sartan, slowing his reflexes. Nevertheless, Sartan gets the upper hand on one of the creatures and shoves it over the edge and into the bubbling lava below. Davros takes advantage of this distraction and slays the other one.

Before long the ranks of enemies is thinned of all but the winged heads which continue to pose a threat. However, as the party begins to collect itself, a new combatant takes the field. Above their heads, the sky is criss-crossed with wires. Misshapen silhouettes dangle, moving to and fro as they swing hand-over-hand. One of these creatures has dropped with a plop into the midst of the fray. It opens up a gaping maw that nearly splits its body, and scuttles toward the party.

Settling down to rest for the night, Cycek takes the first watch. His new friend, Fûzzeedöng, scurries quietly about, exploring or perhaps looking for food. It is still early in the evening when a bit of flickering in the sky catches his attention. He sees, arrayed in the sky, a number of both orange and green lights, some of them very distant, some nearer, but none within immediate reach. He nudges the other guys awake and encourages them to go exploring, to see if they can get near to one of them. They tentatively set out on foot, and before long, the lights flicker out, but not before they observe a couple of things. First, they notice one of the orange lights high in the sky and far out over the southeastern plain seems to shed a few smaller specks of light which fall to the ground. Additionally, they notice a pattern to the position and arrangement of the lights. They seem to be arrayed on concentric arcs, akin to the arrangement of gems they had seen in the wire armature in Ekso’s lab. Extrapolation, based on insightful observation, would perhaps put the center point back in the center of the bluff. This realization leads to some discussion as to whether they should immediately head back into the caves to see if they can get to the heart of the matter. Instead, they decide it would be wiser to rest up, attend to their wounds, and set out in the morning, better prepared for whatever they might encounter.

Later in the night, Davros is awakened by a sharp pain in his side. He groans but remains sleeping. He feels another sharp pain, and comes to as he realized it is a hard boot in his ribs. He looks up to see Sartan looming over him. “What the hell!” he exclaims, to which Sartan replies with a bellow, “Get up asshole! On your feet or I’ll kill you where you lie!” His sword is drawn, and his eyes are alive with yellow flame.

Davros springs up and shoots out a kick, attempting to bring down the belligerent fighter, but in his groggy state, he misses. Sartan takes a half step back, and then lurches forward, swinging his sword, which cackles with laughter. The attack delivers a shallow but serious slash across his chest. Davros, in pain, grabs his rapier and tries to strike back, but again misses. Molten fire blazes in Sartan’s eyes, running down his face and charring it to ash. At this moment, Mishok steps out from behind Sartan, where he had lurked unseen. He carries the goblin, Stringbean, by the legs and swings him like a club. The goblin cranes his neck, sinks his teeth into Davro’s neck, and clamps on like a pitbull. Blood pours down Davro’s neck, soaking his shirt. He tries to bat him away and knock him off, but Stringbean holds tight. Davros is confused, and his confusion grows when a giant weasel burrows out of the ground directly in front of him, speaks with Cycek’s voice, and attacks with a flurry of claws and teeth. Davros skewers this bizarre creature with his rapier, and the resulting bloody wound blossoms into a gaping hole wreathed in orange fire. The sky glows with red light and spires of black rock tower all around him. He stands staring at heaving rivers of lava that flow sluggishly around an island of jagged black rock upon which he stands. The hole widens and two leathery black clawed hands reach out, which scratch and scrabble and pry at the edges of the holes, trying to widen it. Davros is rooted to the spot, as a hideous, enlongated face is thrust through the portal. Two tusks protrude from a distended lower jaw, and beady, close-set eyes glare with bestial fury from beneath a protruding, bony brow. It snarls in rage and frustration, unable to force its way through the too-small opening. It rants in a deep, coarse voice, “I am coming for you. I will eat your soul!” Davros comes out of his nightmare with a shout at the moment the orange portal flickers, falters, and contracts to a point, as the spindly black claws are abruptly drawn back in and disappear.

Davros’ noisy emergence from sleep alerts the rest of the party, and they all stand quiet in the early morning, listening for any reaction to the commotion. They hear nothing, and they relax long enough to discuss events of the night. Davros was not the only one to have an unusual dream, although his was certainly the most alarming. Sartan dreamed of intensive combat training under the tutelage of none other than Demonsbane, his enthusiastic demon-hating sword. With Demonsbane coaching him, the night’s nocturnal training instilled a greater understanding of ways to effectively fight infernal fiends. 

In Mishok’s sleep, he speaks with his god, Divoc. The deity offers words of strength and encouragement to his loyal servant. He instructs the dwarf to remain true to his values and to stay strong in the face of battles to come. Mishok asks if he should trust the Deva, Adara. Divoc replies that yes, Adara, and her master Tyr, are allied in the struggle against evil. He recommends that they heed her advice and welcome her assistance. Mishok awakes feeling strong and inspired, his heart filled with new prayers and, he believes, greater access to Divoc’s power.

Cycek, the elf ranger, has spent part of the night in deep meditation, and the rest in quiet reflection. He focused his attention on his weasel companion, studying its movement, marveling at its dexterity, and contemplating its finely-tuned sensory abilities. He gains a deep appreciation for these attributes, and takes them to heart to such a degree that he feels he has gained some of these skills himself.

the band of adventurers starts the day feeling stronger and more capable than any time before, despite the hardships of the past several days. They are ready to set out, but they are uncertain which way to go. Should they travel around the protruding edge of the bluff, back to the staircase they had climbed a couple of days before, or should the go directly back into the cave from which they emerged the previous afternoon, and perhaps face a collapsing tunnel? 

Before they can decide, they once again experience the rumbling vibration associated with the emergence of portals. An orange sphere, clearly now a portent of evil, appears nearby. Acting quickly, they move to investigate. They approach through a scrubby glade strewn with boulders. They approach the glowing phenomenon, and true to expectations, it spits out something horrific. Three distorted, leering human heads fly out, born aloft of flapping, fleshy wings, like ears grown to monstrous proportions. The adventurers stand ready as these latest flying monstrosities bear down on them.

While the group rests, Sartan is startled to hear a voice in his ear. A high-pitched, cheerful, and slightly brazen voice addresses him, “Hey buddy, you did pretty good back there!” He whirls around, saying “What the hell?” He doesn’t see anything. His companions look up and wonder, “What the heck is up with him?” The voice continues, “You’re pretty lucky you found me though. Killing demons is kinda my specialty, you know. Some of these demons, they’re not gonna be hurt, or at least not much, by these “normal” weapons you guys are carrying. That’s where I come in. I get the job done! You guys woulda been in a bad way without me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you found me! I was getting bored laying there! Now, my former partner, we did pretty good against demons – but iron spikes shooting outta the floor… well, that’s above my pay grade if you know what I mean. Poor guy got skewered! And I been laying there ever since. I’m glad you came along. You and me are gonna be buds!”

Sartan is finally able to determine that the voice is coming from the pommel of the ancient sword he has slung across his back. He is mystified, but he engages it in conversation, asking it questions such as how it came to be in the dungeon. It answers, “Well, I don’t really sweat the details… the why’s and the whatfors. Near as I could tell, ol’ Elric was onto something. There were demons showing up in the countryside and we pinpointed the center of their activity… basically right around where you picked me up. And we went after ‘em. Killed a few, but we never quite got to the bottom of it. Those damned trapped tiles put a little crimp in our plans.”

Sartan’s partners look at him like he has lost his mind. He says to them, “You guys don’t hear this?” With a look of deep skepticism, Cycek replies, “Um… no.” 

Sartan goes on, “This sword! The sword is talking to me!”

Mishok tries to talk to the silvered sword that he picked up from the other skeleton. He receives no reply, but notices delicate engraved shapes that seem to reflect a bit of light, despite the layer of tarnish that mars the rest of the blade. The blade bears a series of geometric shapes, phases of the moon, from a thin waxing crescent to a full moon and back to a thin waning crescent.

The talking sword laughs at this, telling Sartan, “Hey, your buddy is gonna look pretty funny talking to that hunk of metal. I mean, a silvered sword is helpful in certain circumstances, say against a werewolf or maybe some undead. But it sure ain’t gonna talk to him.”

Sartan says, “Hey sword, you know anything about these orange glowing orbs?”

The sword replies, “Naw, I don’t know. You can call be Demonsbane by the way. But that was some kind of portal, I guess. It’s the first time I seen one of them. But those cacklers came pouring out. And where do cacklers come from? The Abyss, that’s where! Gotta be some kinda portal from the Abyss. I wouldn’t mind going there…” The sword sounds almost like it’s musing about a dream vacation. “Man, that would be demon central. I looooove killing me some demons. I mean I hate demons. I hate em! But I looooove killing ‘em!”

The conversation with the sword is interrupted by Cycek alerting to a stealthy movement in the underbrush. Something is making a rustling noise within about 50 feet of their camp. The party quiets down while Cycek goes to investigate. He moves with a degree of stealth that few but an elven ranger could master. He soon sees a small weasel foraging among the rocks and weeds. He reveals himself to the critter, which seems to accept his presence with only slight reluctance. Cycek moves slowly and speaks softly, and gradually coaxes the weasel into his reach. Shortly, the weasel, sensing a kinship climbs up Cycek’s arm and rests on his shoulder.

Returning to camp, he finds his companions at an impasse, uncertain where to go or what to do. Sartan recommends heading back toward the road, while Davros favors going back into the cave to explore. While they are discussing, Sartan hears a voice coming from the wilderness to east. It is hard to tell how near it is, but he seems to hear a cry for help. Cycek on a hunch, asks his new weasel companion to scout out the scene. It clambers down his arm and heads toward the sound, darting from rock to shrub, moving quickly, but quietly. It is gone for at least 10 minutes. The group waits quietly, listening to the distant voice, trying to make out the words. Presently, the weasel, dubbed “Fuzzydong” returns. It sits upright on hits haunches looking at Cycek, turns its head back toward the sound. It drop to all fours, runs a few tight circle, and sits again, eyeing Cycek. Cycek tries to ask it questions, but the weasel is unable to answer in a manner that makes sense to the elf. Finally, Cycek says, “Lead us to what you found.” And it does so, leading them rock by rock, and bush by bush until the near the place from which they hear the voice.

They have entered an area where there are 6-10 foot terraced rock outcroppings. Before them, is an 8 foot drop off to a small grove of trees. Out of sight, but apparently near the base of the trees, a nasal voice, pleads, “Help me! Help me! Come on somebody, please get me out of here!” Sartan notices that there are large spider webs clinging to and connecting the tops of the three nearest trees. In fact, he soon notices a giant spider lurking in the topmost bare branches of the tree. Davros sees a grassy incline around the side of the stone drop off. He moves stealthily down and around while Sartan dips an arrow into oil, lights it, and fires at the spider. He connects, sending the spider scurrying down the tree trunk and igniting the webs in the upper branches. This commotion reveals another two spiders, one in each of the other two trees. Davros takes a shot at the nearest one, wounding it, but also alerting it to his presence.

The source of the distress calls now realizes that someone has in fact heard the calls and has come to the rescue. With renewed hope, the owner of the nasal voice calls out, “Hey! Hey, I’m here! Get these spiders away from me! Get them away! Help! Help!” Davros, with a clear ground-level view, realizes that these is a small, green-faced humanoid, wrapped up in webs and hanging near the ground as if in a web hammock. He calls to his companions up on the small bluff, “Hey! It’s a goblin! Do we want to rescue this guy?” To which the goblin replies, “Hey! Hey! Wait, I know you guys! Oh, thank the gods you came along!” C’mon, help me!”

Davros responds, “Who are you? Do we know you?”

The captive goblin hollers back, “It’s Stringbean! You remember me right!?”

The team up on the bluff, look at each other puzzled, but then remember, “Oh yeah… that’s the one who we captured on the other side of the bluffs. He gave us his climbing equipment for his freedom. That guy!”

At this point, puzzling over this situation comes to a halt, as the spider wounded by Davros rushes at him, and delivers a vicious, venomous bite! Sartan sends another flaming arrow at the original spider, but the third one also scuttles over to Davros’ position and prepares to attack as well.

Mishok joins the battle by way of his mechanical spider. He commands it to attack the nearest spider, and it follows this command flawlessly. It creeps up on the unsuspected “real” spider, and inflicts a bite that is tiny but amplified by a decidedly unnatural venom. The presence of a mechanical ally engaging a foe enables Davros to whirl toward the second spider and deliver a sneak-attack killing blow with his rapier.

The original “burnt” spider has decided to flee, but not without its prize. It grabs the bound, shrieking goblin, and begins to drag him across the brown grass toward safety of another cluster of trees across the glade. Cycek conjures a handful of goodberries, and he sends his new weasel companion to deliver one to the injured Davros. A few more attacks are made and soon the spider confronting Darvos is dispatched. The remaining spider, now alert to its danger, drops Stringbean, and hurries up a tree. But it is too late. The team pursues it and destroys it before it can do harm to anyone else.

Combat having ended, and the area apparently devoid of additional foes, the adventurers gather around the grateful Stringbean, and cut him out of his bonds. He is shaky and weak. They give him a goodberry to bolster his health, and then ask him a series pointed questions as to his presence there. Where did he go after they released him? How did he get here? Where did the spiders come from? Why did they see dead goblins and hobgoblins? He tells them:

“Since I last saw you, I have been trying to stay hidden. I’ve been wandering out here, trying to avoid being seen by any hobgoblins. And I’ve done that pretty well. I have always specialized in “outside” work… stealth, scouting, setting traps. But it was a job! Those hobgoblins though… they were working for the wizard, but they were never really part of his plan. Whatever he was up to, they were not interested. They have their own agenda. And they were using him, as much as he was using them. He hired them as guards, but plainly, they were scouting out his location with a plan to seize it for themselves some day. They have been scouting strategic locations for awhile. They want a stronghold. They have military goals in the area. Us goblins… well, most of us are with them. I mean, they bully us, basically enslave us, but most goblins are fine with that. But not me… I hate the hobgoblins. And if they find me now, they’ll kill me for sure for abandoning my post.”

Sartan asks him, “Do you know anything about the lower level?”

He replies “No, I’ve worked in the kitchen a little bit, and I slept in the barracks, but my assignment was mostly outdoors. I never went to the lower level.”

Mishok observes, “Barracks, huh? That must have been that room with the big bed. Stringbean, who’s bed was that all curtained off?”

Stringbean tells him, “That was where Eve slept. She was the captain of the guard, and she liked those fancy perks.”

Davros is uncertain that he can trust the goblin and asks him, “Can you fight?”

Stringbean replies confidently, “Yeah, I’m good in a fight. I’m not a mighty warrior, but I can take care of myself.”

Sartan asks, “What do you know about these orange glowing spheres?”

He says, “Nothing! I don’t know what they are! They scare me! I’ve seen them, and I run and hide!”

Satisfied with his answers, they give him a dagger and offer to allow him to stay with them. He mentions that he is hungry, and Cycek seems to notice him looking hungrily at Fuzzydong. He admonishes him against eating his weasel.

Before they have a chance to sort out their next step, they are again treated to a vibrating sensation, and the flickering of lights. They soon see a green orb emerge, up near the small bluff where they had encountered the spiders. “Green means good!” they exclaim and run up toward the glowing orb. They smell a floral, herbal aroma. Curious, and expecting a beneficial result, they thrown Stringbean into the orb. With a startled squawk he disappears. Nothing happens for a few seconds and then a refined, formal feminine voice addresses them:

“Friends. Be at peace. Be resolute. Your struggles have been brought to my attention. For the consequences of your battle go deeper than you realize. Your actions have meaning, and you can do good in ways that transcend your own time and place. I have faith in you to make the right decisions. And when this curtain which separates the material world from the celestial world grows thin, I can help those who are lawful and righteous. These tears in the fabric, like this one that is allowing us to communicate… some force triggered them. Something triggered a period of instability, like tremors in solid stone. It may subside. But some evil is at work, exerting its will to take advantage of this situation. I sense its malice, its will, and its power. I believe it is trying to open a gate large enough that will allow an entity of its stature to step through. Presently, these holes are small and of brief duration, and can only accommodate the passage of mundane materials and relatively diminutive, weak creatures such as the “friend” whom you presented to me.”

The group asks the voice who she is, and she identifies herself as Adara, a Deva and she inhabits the plane of Celestia. She is a servant of Tyr, and her role is that of a messenger. Demonsbane, hearing this, says, “Oh, hey Adara, how you doing?” They exchange pleasantries and it is clear that the sword is familiar with this unseen entity. Sartan asks, “You know her?” to which the sword replies, “Yeah, we’ve worked together a time or two. Good people, Devas.”

Adara continues,

“I can exert my influence only so far without risking a serious rift between planes – this would be bad for the world you know. Our adversary has no such concerns for your well being. I cannot mend these rifts – but there is one whom I believe can. She is the one you already seek. I believe she has the hidden knowledge to close these tears in the fabric. You must go to her, and bring her out. She can be redeemed, and she can be the solution to this instability between planes.”

Cycek suggests that perhaps there is a way to superimpose a green portal upon an orange portal. Adara seems impressed with his thought process and replies. “While this may not be literally possible, it is metaphorically akin to what I would propose. When you are ready and have an opportunity to enter a portal in search of the girl, then I may be able to engage the enemy in the space between our planes. The etheral plane that is neither here nor there, and yet both at the same time. I can preoccupy the creature, prevent it’s manifestation where it can reach you. I may have just the power to detain such a creature, for a time, but you must act quickly and decisively.”

The party is understandably concerned about the prospect of going into a hellish plane from which nothing but demons and molten rock have emerged. As the green orb begins to show signs of winking out, Adara offers to grant them each a blessing. Each member of the party thrusts a weapon into the orb, and receives the assurance that weapon will bear a blessing enabling damage to be dealt to abyssal fiends.

A moment before the orb vanishes, Stringbean comes tumbling out. He gets to his feet and stands upright, smiling, he looks strong and vigorous, stating, “Wow, guys! That was the best, most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Like a wonderful vacation. Those were the best weeks of my life.” Apparently time runs at a different pace on the other side of the portal.

With that, the party decides that they should set up camp for the night, as the sun will be setting soon, and they still haven’t decided which way to go.

During the party’s recuparative rest, they examine the swords Sartan had retrieved from the skeletons. The first is a very old and ornate blade. Elvish lettering is engraved along the blade. Cycek is able to translate the words as “Demonsbane.” The other sword is much simpler in design, but it is clearly a high-quality instrument. The blade is sharp, but the metal no longer shines. Mishok recognizes its nature by its tarnished surface. This is a silvered blade, a valuable weapon indeed.

As they make room among their belongings for these additional items, they hear the familiar vibrating rumble that they immediately recognize as a precursor to the emergence of a mystical orb of light. An orange orb pops into view in the center of the tiled room, much to the team’s dismay, as Davros observes, “Green is good, orange is bad.” This proves accurate as gouts of lava and a squad of red, cackling demons emerge from the glowing orb. Some of these tumble onto booby-trapped tiles, and are immediately impaled upon wicked iron spikes. The bodies of these impaled demons hang twitching on the skewers, and blobs of molten rock trigger spikes from adjacent tiles. The four adventurers decide it’s a good time to run, and rightly so, as four cackling, laughing demons make it through the maze of their dying kindred and burning lava to give chase.

They take the passageway where Cycek had been attacked. It is a narrow tunnel and they must go single file. The faster individuals outpace the slower, but all are slowed by the partial cave-in where their previous battle had taken place. This gives the demons time to close the distance. These creatures are small but furious beasts full of teeth, claws, horns, and hate. They laugh as they pursue the party, throwing firebolts and lashing out with barbed chains. As the party becomes strung out along the length of the passage way, Mishok falls behind, and consequently takes the brunt of the attacks. He is the first to hear the voices. Among the cackling of the demons, he hears voices. Rising distinctly from amid the laughter is the voice of a woman who screams, “No! I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me anymore! I’ll behave!” Mishok feels certain this is the voice of Wendella. A deep, booming voice follows, “You are sworn to me. I granted you the power you sought, and you pledged your service. I will not be denied what I am owed!” The fleeing adventurers are perplexed upon hearing this. But soon, they become aware that these creatures are gleefully repeating back their own random phrases of shouted communication. Realizing that these creatures seem to be parroting phrases they had heard before, Davros remarks, “I think we need to go where they came from.”

A running battle continues as the pursuers and the pursued make their way down the passageway. A couple of demons are slain, dying with a mind-rending barrage of cackling that threatens to inflict as much damage as their barbed chains do. Davros and Cycek are the first to emerge into the outside world. They find themselves on a slope of tumbled rocks, about 30 feet above a plain of grass, trees, and stones. Cycek makes his way down the stones, and secrets himself in the shadows, readying a bow for the first adversary to appear. Sartan, having slain at least one of the demons, makes it to the outside next, and hides just outside the cave opening. Mishok, gravely injured, exits the cave last. On the rock pile in the open air, Sartan impales one of the creatures with a javelin and throws it to the ground. He covers his ears and avoids the psychic damage of the unearthly dying cackle. The final demon is soon slain as well, causing a little more damage to the battered Mishok with the dreadful peals of laughter. But soon, silence falls over the blufflands, and the party reassembles at the foot of the rockfall. They are in the shadow of an 100 foot high bluff. A quarter of a mile to the east, the land falls away again in another tier of bluffs. The sun glints off the surface of the river a mile further east. The afternoon is growing cooler as the sun is now hidden behind the bluffs to the west. The adventurers find a hiding place among the shrubs and rocks, to give Mishok an opportunity to pray and find healing from his deity.

The group decides to leave the relative safety of the kitchen and larder, to investigate the mysterious green light. Mishok leads the way, noticing that it seems to be emanating from two different sources – one from a southern hallway and the other from a room to the east. At a turning of the southern corridor, they see a 2-ft. diameter circle of pulsating green light hovering just inches above the stone floor. The keep their distance and observe for a few minutes. Sartan takes out the glowing sphere that he has carried since they removed it from the heart of Ekso’s gem armature lab. He rolls the blindingly bright globe down the length of the hallway, directly at the green glow. It is a direct hit! The bright orb enters the larger but paler, green pulsating orb of energy and it is immediately swallowed up. Moments later a gush of water spurts out of the green orb, splashing large puddles into the corridor. The brave adventurers keep their distance, wondering what to do. Cycek hits upon an idea to investigate the properties of the water. He goes down the corridor to the spot where they had seen a dead goblin. He drags the gruesome corpse back and tosses it into the puddle, where it falls with a splat. At first it seems that there is nothing more unusual than a dead goblin in a puddle, but shortly they notice that the creature’s wounds are healing. Sartan dabs a small about of the water onto one of his wounds, and he experiences a similar healing. This gives them an idea. Still reeling from the death of Coriander, they speculate that maybe it’s not too late. She has not been dead nearly as long as the goblin. Perhaps the healing property of this water could still bring her back. They retrieve her body and place it in the water. They observe the same phenomenon. Her wounds soon knit back together, but she remains lifeless. Next they retrieve a small glass bottle from the kitchen. They soak up some of the water into a towel and wring it into the bottle. They try pouring the water into her mouth. It does not work. She remains dead, and they give up. Presently, the light begins to flicker, and shortly thereafter winks out altogether.

They decide to explore some more of the compound, hoping for some clue that might help them find Wendella. Their exploration takes them down the corridor from which they had retrieved the dead goblin. They find a room containing a variety of rough benches, tables, and stools, as well as mangy piles of linens and blankets. A curtained-off bed is in the center of the room. The curtains are torn, and the bed is strewn with several random articles of women’s clothing. There is an unlocked chest under the bed. They are hesitant to open the chest, but they steel themselves, and carefully open it. Inside, there are no traps or poisons, but rather a tidy amount of cash and jewelry. Sartan takes these items.

Shortly thereafter, they find themselves in the “lobby” room where Sartan and Eve had interacted with the strange glass-encased riddler which guarded the gate down to the gem lab. They examine the room and find little more than mundane furnishings. They find their way back to the kitchen and decide to explore further in another directions. They head toward the corridor where Davros had discovered and marked a pit trap. Sartan investigates the lid of the trap, to identify its exact location and dimensions. He leaps over the pit, and the rest of his companions follow. They climb a set of stairs, turn a corner and descend into a large stone chamber. The stairs they have walked down have been fashioned into a giant tongue lolling from the gaping mouth of a huge, carved demonic face. Central in the chamber is a large stone sarcophagus, carved with unreadable Dwarven runes. In an alcove at the far side of the room is a stone pedestal from which it appears something was recently chiseled and removed from its top surface. Additional exploration reveals seven smaller stone chambers, each with its own plain, unadorned stone sarcophagus. The air is still, the walls are bare and cold. There is some discussion about investigating the contents of a sarcophagus, but Davros recommends against it. Mishok concurs that it would be wiser to leave them alone, and the group agrees.

Leaving the final burial chamber, they find themselves faced with a chamber in which hexagonal tiles cover the floor. Each tile bears a carved letter, and two skeleton lie strewn on the floor. The party members are immediately suspicious and stop before entering the room. Figuring that there must be a proper, safe sequence of tiles upon which to cross the room, they rack their brains for any clues they may have seen. Mishok recalls Ekso’s note to Wendella that the Strongbows had given them, during their first meeting to discuss this mission. He recalls the phrase “Safe Passage” and soon finds that these letters do indeed appear in sequence on the floor.  They all cross the floor safely and find themselves standing before a rough, branching tunnel. Sartan, curious about the skeletons, carefully doubles back to investigate them, stepping only on the prescribed tiles. He uses his gooey grabber to get hold of one of them and pulls it toward himself. As soon as it begins to move, five iron spikes shoot up from shafts in the tile, momentarily exhibiting the manner in which this individual lost his life. The spikes immediately retract, and Sartan drags the skeleton out of the chamber. He does the same with the other. He finds that both are clad in the trapping of a bygone age. These skeletons may have been down here for a hundred years or more, and they may in fact belong to different eras. He finds a few old coins in leather pouches carried by each. They also each bear an old longsword. Each of these swords is an old, well crafted, high quality weapon. One of the two is particularly ornate, and the two are overall, stylistically different in their details. Sartan takes these.

They proceed down one fork of the tunnel and find that it emerges high on a cliff face, overlooking the eastern plains, the river, and the road. The sun is a few hours past noon, casting the cliff face in shadow, but the sky is clear and blue.

They backtrack and try the other fork. The tunnel here is no longer solid rock, but partly packed dirt. They come around a curve in the tunnel, when suddenly the wall to their left bursts outward, jettisoning rocks and dirt into the passagway. A huge bug-like creatures sinks its mandibles into Cycek, locks two clawed forelimbs onto him and begins pulling him into a hole in the wall. He kicks feebly at it, having little effect. His companions spring into action. Sartan hacks with his axe, Davros stabs with his rapier, and Mishok calls for divine intervention in the form of sacred flame. The trio are only partly successful. They wound the bug, but the ceiling begins to cave in, knocking Mishok and Davros to the floor, while the creature delivers what might be a killing bite to Cycek. Sartan attacks again, scoring a solid blow, as does Davros. Mishok is able to crawl near enough to Cycek to reach out and deliver a healing touch. This miraculous healing brings Cycek back from the brink of death. But not for long. He is still in the clutches of the creature, and it continues to savage him with its terrifying mandibles. He loses consciousness once more and begins bleeding profusely. The ceiling continues to rain stones and debris upon the combatants, keeping Mishok and Davros prone on the floor. Nevertheless, Davros reaches in with a lethal stab of his rapier. The creature falls dead and releases Cycek from its grip. Sartan, Mishok, and Davros drag their fallen companion out of the rubble, to a presumably safer place near the entrance to the tiled chamber. They administer a shot of healing liquor, reviving the unconscious elf. Cycek, injured but alive, conjures a handful of magic healing berries, and eats them for a greater degree of healing. The group decides it might be best for them to rest for an hour or so.

Cycek and Mishok take their leave of Mayor Strongbow, weighing the many concerns now troubling the city. They decide to pay a visit to the Church of St. Terragnis on their way back across town. They enter the quiet church and the find Brother Tibalt busying himself about the altar. He greets them warmly, and he is pleased to see them. He is a man of faith and hope, but he must share some somber news. He visits Father Baird routinely, and sadly he has found that over time, the fallen priest becomes more entrenched in madness. Tibalt, with the assistance of his loyal acolytes, has continued to operate their church, and continues to serve the public. But not all the public is faithful, or indeed, lawful. Several weeks ago, the church was broken into, and two notable artifacts were stolen. Once was an ancient shield that Father Baird had discovered in his explorations beneath the church. The other was a Throgsden family heirloom – known as a Belt of Dwarvenkind. He laments the loss of the valuable items, but further laments the depths to which people will sink. Mishok tells Tibalt of the events in Blasingdell, and inquires whether Tibalt might have the ability of heal the denizens of that town. Tibalt suggests that he might consider it a worthy mission of mercy. If he brings two of his most skilled acolytes, he believes that he may have the skill and faith to save the people of Blasingdell. He asks if, in turn, Mishok would be willing to serve as interim pastor of the Church. Mishok says that he will consider it. They agree to discuss it further and, for now, say their farewells.

Meanwhile, back at the Yur Inn, Davros and Sartan consider how they might strengthen the flimsy temporary façade of the building. They quickly realize that they don’t have the skills to do much with the construction materials that are lying around on their grounds.  Sartan is irritated with Lolly’s overspending on construction, but she is full of enthusiasm for the venture. While she is vigorously describing her vision, the door opens and a man comes in. Lolly immediately becomes nervous. She addresses him as Mr. Livist and she begins making him a cocktail known as a “Bloody Marilith.” Livist is a short but muscular man wearing leather armor. He has an arrogant demeanor, and soon makes it known that he is the collector of protection money, on behalf of the Stoneheaded Bastards. He reminds Lolly that her next payment is due in a week. He sips his drink and scoffs at the two owners of the bar. Preparing  to leave, he “accidentally” knocks his drink off the bar, leaving a big mess for Lolly to clean up. As he laughs and turns to leave (without having paid for his drink) Sartan smacks him in the back of the head with the pommel of his sword. The man crashes to the ground, unconscious. Davros and Sartan promptly tie him up, and plan to interrogate him.

The battle continues! The two fiends with the massive gaping maws immediately set upon the fallen Coriander and deliver a couple more terrible bites. Mishok quickly grabs her and pulls her away. Cycek steps in to assist and the two carry the bleeding half-elf, running with all possible haste, pursued closely by the horrific monsters. Davros, joins them, prepared to turn and fight if necessary. The three flee back to the cave entrance. Meanwhile, Sartan climbs up onto a massive boulder, and fires arrows at the pursuers. He immediately brings down one of the smaller creatures, and also puts a couple of damaging arrows into the others as well. Once the other combatants have reached the cave, Sartan leaps down and follows them. He kills another of the small creatures just inside the cave entrance.

Inside the cave, the party continues to run. They pass the staircase where they had their altercation with the guard, just over an hour ago. The guard has hobbled down the stairs and is sitting at the end of the stairway, clutching his broken knee. He is shocked to see the party running back his way, but even more so at the terrifying creatures that pursue them. They run past the guard, but the pursuers immediate attack him. They tear the hapless guard limb from limb, and in their bloodlust turn there attention away from their original quarry. Davros, Cycek, and Mishok lay Coriander down, and take up positions in the corridor where they can make ranged attacks against the monsters. Davros lands a devastating arrow shot, and Mishok brings down the sacred flame. Sartan in then able to reach the site of the fray. With a couple more arrow shots, he is able to finish off the vile monstrosities.

The group is bloodied and tired. They immediately attend to Coriander, trying to determine if she still lives. Cycek is pretty certain that here wounds and blood loss are so severe that she is beyond help. She is lifeless. Nevertheless, Mishok is helpful. He calls upon the power of his deity and casts a prayer of healing over all of his companions. The healing is immediately effective for the wounded, but not for Coriander. Mishok now realizes that she is truly gone.

The group is stunned and somber, but they realize they need to get somewhere safe. They take Coriander’s body and move into the larder. They investigate Coriander’s possessions, and discover a couple of interesting things, most noteworthy a pair of leather-bound journals. One contains notes on the Staff of Wizardry. It asserts that it is a very powerful item, which has the capacity to contain great eldritch energy, enabling even an inexperienced wizard the capability to cast complex, powerful spells. The drawback to this, is that a low-level wizard who leans too heavily on the power of the staff, can easily become consumed and distorted by that power. Furthermore, it describes a property by which the breaking of the staff will cause an explosion commensurate with the amount of power remaining in the staff. Anyone caught in the explosion could be very badly injured and, even more interestingly, be teleported to a random plane of existence.

The other journal is Wendella’s personal diary. It contains her entire story – how she has long been enamored with her innate spellcasting abilities. She has been visiting the library at the Visitor’s Center for years, and has discovered clues about the region’s history. Although she was unable to read the ancient Duergar, she has gleaned that the humans and dwarves here both became involved in demon worship, the undead, and dark rituals. Two years ago, she met Ekso as he was there to study the same subject. He was much older and much more knowledgeable, but he instructed her in the study of the Duergar language, and encouraged her to learn necromancy spells. He spoke of an important research project he was conducting in the blufflands. He was working with a crew to excavate an ancient subterranean sacred site. He needed a variety of materials, and he recruited Wendella, and made use of her contacts within the city and their network of bandits to comb the underworld black market for the material components for conjuration spells. Most importantly, he sought the largest, clearest Shadowfurst Sapphire he could get his hands on, for the power to trigger his greatest conjuration.

“We have had Hack’s people bringing in all kinds of items that we never would have been able to obtain otherwise. The golden skull, the ground elven bone, even the mandrake root would have been hard to find in this backwater town. Thank Orcus for the black market! But we’ve had no luck with the gem. Berniece prepared some smaller sapphires for us. It was was just enough to enable us to call forth some dretches, ghouls, and vulchlings. Even a death dog! But we need something more. Ekso sent the goblin crew to check into a lead south of town. We haven’t heard back yet. Those fools probably botched the job. I never would have trusted goblins to something so important. But, we also have to focus our efforts on the key. Our last ritual produced a ghast… an impressive and terrible creature. We sent it to the eastern tunnel., and our hopes are strong that it will retrieve what we seek.”

After spending some time thinking this over, and debating what to do next, they sense with foreboding the vibrating sensation again that seemed to precede the previous emergences of the mysterious anomalies. Davros, keeping watch in the corridor sees a shimmering of green light reflecting on the stone walls. He cannot see the source of the light, but he returns to the larder to alert his comrades

During their resting period, the group examines the books they had hastily taken from Ekso’s library. It seems they made some choices that may hold potentially valuable information, as they appear to be of arcane subject matter, rather than mundane information. Coriander is able to identify what appear to be spells, alchemical instruction, and in a book that seems to contain crude drawings of magical items, there is a sketch of what is almost certainly a Staff of Wizardry of the kind that the team broke, resulting in the explosion and the disappearance of Wendella and Eve. There are handwritten notes accompanying the diagram, written in dwarvish characters, but in a language that even Mishok can barely read. He is able to discern a few common words, including “invisibility,” “fire,” and an unmistakable term for “Hell.”

Uncertain where to go from here, vacillating between returning to Ekso’s compound in search of answers, and heading up the trail, they explore the immediate vicinity of their hiding place. They discover the bodies of slain goblins and hobgoblins. At least one of the hobgoblins is pierced by goblin arrows. Sartan, low on arrows himself takes 14 goblin arrows from two of the fallen creatures. They see that the grass in the area is quite trampled down and bloody. They follow bloody footsteps back to the main trail.

As they pause there, discussing which way to go, they detect a rumbling sound and vibrating sensation. Presently another “blurry spot” materializes. This one has an orange hue, and has wisps of black smoke wafting off of its surface. Mishok and Cycek approach from around a large rock and peer at the anomaly. A voice emanating from the orange blur addresses them:

“Well, well… if it isn’t my newest friends. Going somewhere are you? You made a bit of mess in the wizard’s playroom and lost your little girl. Now you’re buggering off to who knows where. Well it seems your shenanigans back there have maybe caused a little more damage than you thought. The curtain is a little threadbare. I can see you through it… I can see you through the worn spots and the little holes. When a hole gets big enough… well, maybe I’ll step through and pay you a little visit.” 

Cycek tries to interrogate the voice, asking, “Who are you? And where’s Wendella.”

The voice is indirect in its answers, laughing and saying, “I’m he who will come someday to claim your lives. But I do appreciate you sending me my favorite helper. And you do have spirit. Maybe I’ll let you live and you can come here and join the ranks of my “helpers” too. In the meantime, here are some “friends” to play with.”

There is a deep laugh, and three bloated, fleshy little creatures come tumbling out of the orange spot. Their filthy skin is covered with sores. Their eyes are wild with hatred. They gnash their wretched teeth and rush to attack, clawing with their jagged claws. Several blows are exchanged, and two of the blobish creatures fall dead in puddles of rancid black fluid, and it looks like the battle is well in hand. But at that moment, 3 more creatures emerge from the weird orange blur. These are squat black fiends like hairless, wingless bats crossed with apes. They resemble the creatures that had been present in Hack’s dogfight pit in the Stoneyard. These creatures rush forward to attack, biting and clawing, and releasing a noxious fume. One of these creatures is killed as the melee intensifies. The party is hard-pressed in battle but manages to kill the last of the initial trio of attackers, only to have ranks of assailants again swell as two more horrific creatures come rolling forth from the orange portal. These two bizarre creatures are almost spheroid lumps of disgusting flesh with oddly placed stumpy limbs, goggling eyes, and most frightfully, enormous gaping maws lined with crooked, dagger-like fangs. The heroes attack these with gusto, unleashing arrows, vicious sword-strokes, sacred flames, magical frost rays and more. Mishok slams one of the bat-like creatures into oblivion with a massive swipe of his warhammer. Sartan improvises a molotov cocktail with a flask of pure alcohol. He lobs a perfect throw directly into one of the hellish maws, where it bursts into flame. The creature is only slightly phased as the smoke billows from its mouth.

The fiendish creatures press forward, and start to overwhelm the heroes by sheer force of numbers. Davros wisely puts some distance between himself and the fray, heading down the trail. He is followed shortly by Cycek, who has concealed himself in the natural cover just off the trail, moving with ranger-nimbleness from rock, to shrub, to shadow, avoiding the notice of the monsters. Mishok and Coriander begin to leave next, and are pursued by their horrific foes. Sartan disengages from the fight, and separated from the rest by the crush of bodies at the heart of the battle, heads the opposite way. One of the giant-mawed monstrosities grabs him as he attempts to move out of range, and delivers a brutal bite wound. He is able to break free and move away, although bloodied and seriously injured. The other maw monster catches up to Coriander and grabs her as she flees. The gruesome bite brings her to the ground, where she lies bleeding out as the scene comes to a cliffhanger end.

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The cautious party decides to explore the kitchen and see if this will be a suitable area to hole up for a while. They find two people hiding behind the counter – a man and a woman. These two are frightened cooks, who have witnessed a number of disturbing things over the past day. They heard the fearful voice that boomed throughout the compound after the giant worm creature was slain. The heard the clash of fighting on several occasions, including some particularly fierce and nearby clashes the previous night. They fear the hobgoblin guards that they saw coming and going, and they fear the large bloody man who barged through theIr kitchen in the company of a wounded goblin just after the fight concluded. The two of them are fearful. They have worked in the kitchen here for a few months after living on the road previously. They say that they came to work for the wizard against the advice of Moose Maynard, but they wanted steady work rather than the wayward lives they had been living. They indicate that the way out is through the adjacent store room. A trembling sensation and a rumble interrupts their conversation.

Cycek, standing near the door to the store room notices a weird visual anomaly in the corner of the next room. It seems to be a “blurry” spot, roughly 2-feet in diameter. The effect is almost like looking through a smudged lens or a distorted piece of glass. They approach the anomaly to investigate, and out of pure curiosity consider tying someone to a tether of some kind, and letting them touch the “blur.” Before they can execute this plan, Sartan tries to smack it with his Gooey Grabber. When it makes contact with the “blur,” it gets flung aside as if hitting a spinning object. Before long the blurriness begins to clarify until it is no longer visible.

The rumbling and mysterious “blur” give the party some concerns about the stability of the compound. The cooks want to join them for protection, but the party declines this invitation, explaining that they still have dangerous work ahead of them, and recommends that they go their own way. Naturally, the cooks can only accept this, and bid farewell to the team.

They decide that they still need to rest and recover from some wounds, but this is not the place. They return to the saferoom and lock the doors. An hour later, they emerge and decide to continue investigating. They are curious about the voices and clanging they heard earlier, and Coriander is eager for clues as to Wendella’s whereabouts.

They unlock the gate in the “lobby” and descend the stairs. Sunlight is softly illuminating the center of the room. They see that some of the wires have been cut and removed, making movement in at least part of the room easier to manage. And there is a tarp tied down over the opening in the center of the floor. Bodies of slain goblins, hobgoblins, and ghouls have been piled up along one wall.

Next they go back into Ekso’s quarters. Here too they discover that some kind of clean up has happened. The disgusting remains of the worm creatures seems to have removed at least in part. And iron bars have been roughly bolted over the opening to the spiral staircase. Coriander moves into the adjacent library and begins searching through the books, hoping to hit upon something that may reveal the nature of the broken staff that triggered the explosions and apparently Wendella’s disappearance. She is frustrated that there is so much material, and so much of it in languages she cannot read. Irrationally, she wants to stay here and research, but it is obvious that they are not alone here. Furthermore, Sartan asserts, this place seems unstable as another rumble is felt. They decide to each take a couple of books and leave.

They retrace their steps out through the kitchen, stopping to replenish their food supplies, and head into a rough cave-like passageway that seems to slowly ascend. There is no sign of the cooks they had met earlier. They pass another passageway that branches to the left and which seems to angle back down. Up ahead they begin to discern what appears to be natural light. The passageway ahead seems to open into the outdoors, but there is also a rough, narrow flight of stairs along the right-hand wall of the cave. Sartan heads up the stairs, followed by Cycek, and Davros, walking single-file up the narrow steps. At the top, they are met by a man clad in the attire of the Shadowfurst Town Guard. He is in a small room with a window at his back, which looks out over the outside. The man is nervous and defensive. He brandishes a spear in his right hand and holds aloft a metal sphere in his left, demanding, “Who are you!? Where do you think you’re going!? Back off! Get out of here!” Sartan, Cycek, and Davros are all rather taken aback by this and decide to assert themselves. They ask who he is, and he replies that he is “Officer Waldo” and that they had better leave. He tells them the way out is just down the stairs. The party is very suspicious of him and keep up the pressure, arguing with him and insisting that they be allowed up the stairs. Davros pulls out his bow and the guard reacts, lobbing the metal sphere over Sartan and Cycek. It bounces off the stairs and explodes in Davros’ chest, blasting him back off the stairs and flat on his back.

In the fracas, Sartan pulls out his fidget spinner and the guard promptly falls for its hypnotic power. Davos, in a fury, barges up the stairs and exacts a violent revenge on the helpless guard – kicking him in the crotch, snapping his knee, and breaking his jaw, and finally urinating on him to add insult to injury. They leave him bleeding and unconscious while they investigate his small lookout perch. Peering out the window they see a rocky, scrubby landscape, bluffs, blue sky, and a trail down below. They do not see any movement.

Heading down the stairs and out into the open air, they determine that they are likely along the same trail they had followed to arrive here the previous day. Coriander is horrified by Davros’ treatment of the guard and wants to strike out on her own. Sartan, asserting that they will have a better chance of finding Wendella if they stick together, convinces her to stay. They find a hiding spot amid the rocks and hunker down to rest.